


A Wedding And Four Funerals

by dreamyafterdark



Category: About Time (2013 Curtis), Marriage Story (2019), Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Angst and Fluff and Smut, Awkward Kissing, Crying, Divorce, Drunk Charlie, Kylux - Freeform, Kylux Adjacents, Lawyers, Loneliness, Multi
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-12-07
Updated: 2019-12-07
Packaged: 2021-02-26 07:15:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,487
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21709597
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dreamyafterdark/pseuds/dreamyafterdark
Summary: Charlie's marriage is falling apart, and his entire life seems to follow suite. He decides to drown his sorrows in some bar he's unlikely to be spotted by anyone he knows, but is found nonetheless- be it by someone he doesn't know. A charming redhead with a beautiful lilting accent... Tim Lake, casually on the lookout for cupboards...
Relationships: Armitage Hux/Ben Solo | Kylo Ren, Charlie & Nicole (Marriage Story), Charlie (Marriage Story)/Tim Lake
Comments: 8
Kudos: 27





	A Wedding And Four Funerals

**Author's Note:**

> So I watched Marriage Story and had to do something because it's so miserable :'(  
> I aim to update this when I can, but I currently have a list of WIPs, so it may be infrequent for a while.  
> The Divorce tag is for Charlie's marriage to Nicole, not the main pairing. Some tags are for future chapters, as is the rating. This first one is all prelude.

Charlie had specifically not chosen one of his usual bars. Not even one of his usual neighbourhoods. He was someplace he never went, where no one would recognise him, where I could sit in a corner and drink, not alone, but alone.  
Surrounded by strangers.

It was going well, too. Head downed three at the bar, then taken another two back to his booth. One was already empty, and he was working on the last one... Yeah, it was working. Given his large frame, perhaps a little too well, but that could be the stress, too. A failing marriage and a kid that seemed to hate you had a way of doing that… 

Stewing in self-pity, Charlie kept his nose in his drink and didn’t notice the bar filling up more and more. No one came to bother him in his corner booth, not for a long time, and then it was only for some girls to dump their coats next to him, while they went off to try and order drinks. 

They never came back. But someone did approach his table, someone with a soft voice and an Irish accent. Charlie looked up and straight into sparkling blue-green eyes that made him feel dizzy. That, or raising his head too fast. Either way, he made a strange sound and swerved in his seat. 

“Are you alright?”, the other man’s hand shot out and supported Charlie’s side.

“Oh oh, yeah yeah… yeah…”, the raven-haired trilled, and tried to sit up straight. He made a soft sound when the man let go of his side. The touch had felt… nice. Ugh. Damnit. Get it together, Charlie, he thought and rubbed his eyes.

“I was asking if these seats are taken… although…”, the other man started and turned around to look over at the bar. “I think perhaps I’ll make that just one seat. And only for a moment…”, he added, wryly. 

Charlie grunted and nodded, moving a bit to indicate the other guy was welcome.

“My name’s Tim.”, he said as he sat down. 

Tim. Slim. Red-head, clean shaven and Irish accent. And very nice hands. Charlie hiccuped, then cleared his throat.

“I am - my name – Charlie.”, he brought out, and offered Tim his hand.

Yes, that was a nice handshake. Honestly, Charlie didn’t want to let go. He wanted to sit here, hold Tim’s hand, and that to be normal. As it was, he was probably already holding the poor man’s hand for 50% too long, and every further second –

“Yeah, my date just left with someone else.”

Tim’s voice shook Charlie out of his thoughts, and he let go of his hand without thinking. In hindsight, that might have come across as a rejection. Ugh. Charlie cleared his throat again, before muttering out a single word: “Idiot.”

Tim laughed softly and turned his head back. “Rough night for you, too?”

“… Yeah.”

“Suppose I don’t mind so much really. I’ll just go back in, and this will never have happened…”

Charlie frowned slightly into his drink. Tim was talking strangely now… wasn’t he? Go back in where? Nothing will have happened.

“What d’you mean?”

“Nothing. No worries.”, Tim said lightly, and looked over his shoulder again. “I think that’s a utility cupboard over there. Don’t you think that’s what it is?”

He was already standing up, when the girls returned for their coats, and having heard his accent, cornered Tim for a good fifteen minutes. Charlie mainly watched, finding the scene was slowly sobering him up.

He wasn’t sure if he liked that, but he let it happen. Tim was kind of doing the same, it seemed. He repeatedly, politely, you could even say sweetly, averted the girls’ advances, until they finally gave up and sat across the table, turning their attention elsewhere. Charlie grunted. 

“You’re quite the ‘chick magnet’”

“Yeah, well, some good that does me *now*”, Tim said with a wry smile.

“Now?”

“Now that I know I’m gay.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah. But don’t worry, I’m not hitting on you-“

“Huh… Well, why the hell not?”

Tim blushed. “Oh no, I mean, it’s just, I mean… you’re drunk. You know? It wouldn’t be ethical.”

“Huh…”

There were tiny sweat drops forming on the other man’s forehead. A really pretty forehead, if Charlie had to appraise it. In fact, this was a really good-looking man. Fine bone structure, good skin, all over really handsome. His clothes though… Black jeans were fine, but the band T-shirt-

“You really shouldn’t wear T-shirts like that. They’re for kids.”

“Fuck off.”, Tim said lightly.

To his surprise, Charlie felt a smile burst from his lips. A genuine, warm smile. 

“I’m just trying to give you some notes on your appearance. This is New York. If you want to score here-“

“Notes?”

Charlie’s smile grew.

“I can handle myself…”, Tim added, seemingly biting back some more choice comments.

But he didn’t leave. He sat back down, and Charlie felt a rush of something warm inside his chest.

“Sorry.”, he said softly. “This is just what I do. I give people notes. I’m a director. I run a theatre company and I do this all the time. Usually people thank me for it.”

There was some leftover pouting in his voice, but none on his face. Maybe it was the alcohol, but Charlie was feeling sick of himself, of the way he was. Maybe Tim was good practice, for a new start.

“My landlord back in London is in the theatre. He hated bad reviews…”

Charlie wanted to state that that was the point of the notes, in the long run anyway. If he could catch all these flaws early, then no reviewer would – but it wasn’t really true, that wasn’t the real purpose, and anyway, he didn’t want to get into this. Perhaps he couldn’t even. His sobered up state appeared to have been very temporary.

“Let me buy you a drink.”, he replied instead.

But Tim shook his head. “I think you might have had enough. But that’s up to you. I think I should go.” He got up again, only this time it was Charlie’s hand that held him back.

“Don’t go.”

There it was. Those worse could be taken in different ways, but saying them, Charlie knew what he meant, and as he looked up and let his eyes search Tim’s, he… 

“Well…”, Tim blushed, and thought for a moment. “I suppose I could help you get home safely. You do look like you could use a hand.”

Charlie didn’t want to leave yet, but, and perhaps this was the alcohol talking, yes definitely, but the prospect of having to remove his hand from Tim’s was bad enough. He didn’t want to lose all access, not just yet. So he nodded, downed his remaining glass and got up. Again, Tim reached out to stabilise him, and all the way to the door, he didn’t let go. When the crowd got too thick to let him keep his arm around Charlie’s, he dropped it down to hold his hand and lead him through the mass of bodies. Charlie was unsteady on his feet, but he held on tightly, and they made it outside.

Outside was cold. Tim closed his jacket and pushed up the collar, then turned to do the same for Charlie, as the ravenhaired just stood and passively let him. When Tim brushed over his hair, the feeling was so familiar, Charlie lost his grip for a moment, and clasped Tim’s head, pulling him in for a kiss.

Time stopped. Charlie’s heart missed a beat. Strange. This wasn’t… whoa, this wasn’t a dream, or a memory, and this was not Nicole… Tim had stood and let Charlie pull him in, but he was gently, carefully pulling himself away.

“Sorry…”, Charlie started, but Tim shook his head.  
“It’s alright. Let’s get you home… Taxi? Taxi!!”

He helped Charlie into his building. He helped him search for his keys, hit the lock at the right angle. As Charlie he entered the flat, he pulled Tim in with him. He couldn’t remember having been this drunk before, not for a long, long time – but now, standing in the hall and looking out over his dark, empty place… all the alcohol in the world couldn’t stop the rise of the dark, sticky morass inside him. Fear, loss, grief, pain, abandonment… broken, broken home, broken life… 

Charlie sank to his knees and hid his head in his hands. Tim stood awkwardly, closing the door behind them, then placing a hand on Charlie’s shoulder. The ravenhaired let out a sob. 

“I’m sorry…”, he trembled, and turned around, burying his head against Tim’s body and holding on to his legs tightly.  
“Hey…”, Tim said very softly, running one hand through Charlie’s hair, letting the other hold onto his shoulder.  
“I’m sorry…”, Charlie repeated.  
“It’s alright…”, Tim whispered, with that sweet, melodious lilt. “It’s alright, Charlie…”


End file.
